


The Way You Look Tonight

by numb3r5ev3n



Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numb3r5ev3n/pseuds/numb3r5ev3n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CLU 2 wants to slow-dance with Sam Flynn in the kitchen at three in the morning, and won't take no for an answer. From a fic prompt from Tumblr. I cleaned it up, and I am posting it here now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way You Look Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/gifts).



Sam Flynn has no idea how they got to this point.  
  
Of course he remembers the chain of events that has led him to this juncture with CLU - but the logic of it escapes him. If anyone had told him months ago that he would be living with the entity that deprived him of his father - that they would be here now, in each other’s arms - he’d have told them they were insane.

  
That he could even entertain such a possibility with someone who was basically a clone of his father - well, at this point Sam is sure that his own sanity is now in question.

The problem is, he isn’t sure that he cares anymore.

....

  
Sam knows that CLU’s vast labyrinth of complexes stems from his obsession with Users, his all-consuming need to be accepted as one of them in all aspects of User life. If that means slow-dancing in the kitchen to Frank Sinatra’s _The Way You Look Tonight_ at three in the AM in their pajamas, so be it.

  
First comes the music; invading his dreams, winding around them like a silken ribbon before he is jolted awake by his father’s voice.

  
“Sam. Wake up, Sam. It’s time.”

  
“Just give me five more minutes. It’s not time for school yet -”

  
_“Sam.”_

  
The voice is insistent. For all that it is Kevin Flynn’s voice, It has an edge to it now that Sam never heard from his father in life, before or after the Grid.

  
Sam snaps awake to see CLU standing over him, his hands grounded above either shoulder on the mattress, his eyes shining down at him through the darkness. He freezes, unsure if CLU is about to kiss him or make an attempt to snap his neck.

  
“Time for what? What is it time for?” Sam stammers, as CLU gets an arm under his back behind his shoulders, lifting him up into a sitting position.

  
“I have a surprise for you, Sam,” CLU says, pulling him on up to his feet.

  
Sam is not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. There is the fact that “surprise” from CLU could include the possibility of anything from a bottle of champagne, to a priceless Ming vase full of inert voxels, or a severed human head, or the ruthlessly calculated extinction of an entire digital species.

  
Sam overbalances, nearly spilling back onto the bed and taking CLU with him. CLU’s wry chuckle at this sends chills down his spine.

  
CLU leads Sam into the kitchen. Marv is curled up on the sofa, asleep, oblivious to the world around him. They are surrounded by the soft swell of music from Sam’s computer. It’s from his oldies and jazz compilation, the playlist he designed as mood music for when he had dates over. That CLU has discerned its context and purpose speaks volumes about his assimilation thus far, but what CLU says next throws him for a loop.

  
“I’ve heard this is a cute thing that Users sometimes, do, Sam. Since I’m a User now, I want you to be the one to do this with me,” CLU says.

  
“Do what? What thing?” Sam asks.

  
“I want to dance,” CLU says.

  
“CLU, it’s three in the morning -”

  
“ _Dance with me, Sam_.”  CLU says. It is not a request.

  
Heteronormativity as Sam knows it does not exist on the Grid. It isn’t so much that everyone is bisexual there, so much as that preference for one gender over another isn’t even a concept that Programs are familiar with.

  
As programs are unable to bear offspring, the Westermarck Effect was also something that CLU had not encountered before leaving the Grid. Sam is aware of CLU’s attraction, is aware of how wrong it makes him feel, how wrong this is, even now, as CLU leads him in a dance across the wood plank floor to the timeless crooning of Ol’ Blue Eyes.

  
At first it seemed to be for the thrill of the chase, but lately Sam has wondered if it’s because CLU craves the approval of a Flynn - _any_ Flynn.  
And there is the thought that, deep down, he has agreed to their little  arrangement because CLU is the only trace of his father that he has left.

  
“What’s the matter Sam? Am I not doing it right?” CLU asks, as _The Way You Look Tonight_ fades, moving right on into the opening of Wayne Newton’s _Danke Schoen._  

  
“No, you’re fine. It’s just that it’s really late - “

  
“Aww,” CLU says, swooping in and covering Sam’s mouth with his own. He hovers there for a minute, and Sam wonders just how much experience CLU has had in the past thousand or so cycles of his existence, before CLU goes in even deeper, bringing teeth and tongue into the action.  
And Sam wonders if he has just been going through the motions all this time, knowing that it would end here - that his resistance would inevitably collapse like a shack made of wet cardboard in the dim light of his own kitchen.


End file.
